


Hey, doll

by AvaKelly



Series: Bits and Pieces [18]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Avengers Tower, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Getting Together, M/M, Nervousness, how do i tag this thing, it doesn't even have a plot, or something
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2016-03-05
Packaged: 2018-05-24 20:59:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6166690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaKelly/pseuds/AvaKelly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky psyches himself up to ask Clint out only to blurt "I like you" and subsequently run off.<br/>Clint is confused.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hey, doll

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [anon](http://intermittently-ava.tumblr.com/post/140496553347/ok-but-imagine-this-bucky-is-very-nervous-about). Thank you!

He has a plan. Bucky has a plan and it involves putting on his most charming smile, casually saying "hey, doll," and then laying it heavy with asking Clint out. He's done it countless times before, he remembers. He's even practiced in front of the mirror, and that smirk of his is still the same even though he's not the same man he was back then.

Now, he's been broken and glued back crookedly, he's scarred and mutilated, but Clint's been bent out of shape, too. Given, not in exactly the same way, but close enough that Bucky thinks Clint would understand him. Accept.

He has a plan, so why is he sweating like a young boy on his way to his first dance?

He likes Clint.

Sam's been encouraging him to go tell Clint this. Sam's also been reassuring him that yes, times have changed, and even though things are still not entirely ok for a lot of people, liking the same genders out in the open is not as dire as it used to be.

Yet Bucky has still been trying to scrounge up the nerves to ask Clint out. Steve's been making fun of it. Hmpf! The punk. He's not faring better in his wooing of Sam, yet he dares yap his mouth about Bucky's predicament. Pot, kettle, and Bucky had to shake his head at himself.

He thought he could do this.

But now Clint is looking at him, blinking expectantly after Bucky's planned "hey, doll" has turned into "Hey, Clint!" out loud.

Bucky swallows, forces himself not to fidget.

Ask him out. Bucky psyches himself up. Just do it, you like him, ask him... like him, ask him...

"I like you!" he yells with the entire force behind his lungs.

He only realizes what he's said and how he's said it when Clint's eyes widen comically, and Bucky would laugh, but the ground feels like it's moving beneath his feet. There's a hot burn creeping out of his collar, encasing the back of his neck, then twisting forward to catch onto his cheeks as well.

What in hell has he done.

He needs air, lots and lots of cold air. The roof is the best idea right now, the crisp cold of late winter still lingering in the atmosphere.

~

Clint has to blink several times. He turns around, but the kitchen is empty. He even eyes his sandwich for a good few seconds like it might hold an answer.

What just happened?

Did Bucky... nah. Clint is imagining things. Besides, Clint only knows a little Russian, mostly swear words, thanks Nat, so he can't be sure of what he's heard.

With a frown, he takes a bite, chews on it slowly, replaying the last few minutes in his head. The entirety of Bucky's behavior has been so telling, but Clint might be misinterpreting things. Maybe Bucky had wanted that last piece of bacon that went into Clint's sandwich.

He almost regrets not paying attention when Nat's tried to teach him Russian. Almost. Speaking of which, said assassin is walking in all grace and beauty and will most likely laugh at him. Clint shrugs, swallows.

"Ty mne nravish'sya," he says out loud, stumbling a little on the sounds.

Nat rotates to face him, an eyebrow already raised. Clint chomps a large bite to give his mouth something to do, chews even slower than before, while tipping his chin up in challenge. With a smirk, Natasha slides closer until she can look up at him from beneath her eyelashes.

Ok, so the words are either a very dirty proposition, or something too emotional for Nat to handle like an adult. He kisses her cheek, leaving behind a trail of crumbs and grease.

"Bucky said that to me," he mumbles, mouth still full.

"Ew, Clint," Nat returns, rubbing at her cheek with a grimace, before moving away to fetch herself a tomato from the fridge. She bites through it like it's an apple and Clint shudders.

"Ew, Nat," he repeats through his chewing. "So what's it mean?"

"He said he'd like to deepthroat you," she returns.

Clint shakes his head immediately. "You already taught me how to say deepthroating, remember?"

Leaning into the counter, Nat tuts at herself.

"Getting sloppy there, Romanov," Clint grins.

She turns an unimpressed look at him. "He said he likes you."

Clint's sandwich slides down from between his lax fingers, and only quick reflexes paired with a hell of a lot of luck make him catch it before it spreads in a mess on the floor.

"Now you can stop pining," Nat continues. "Go smooch or fuck or something."

"I'm not--"

Clint swallows. He swallows again, but there's nothing more in his mouth, just a big lump in his throat.

"Clint," Natasha says, and it's chastising enough that Clint's shoulders slump.

"You sure?" he whispers, a little afraid of the answer.

Nat nods slowly. "Very."

Clint doesn't even bother hiding the smile that pulls at his face so quickly, it makes his cheeks hurt. It earns him an eye roll, but it's warm and caring and in moments like these Clint is reminded how lucky he is she's his friend.

"So where is he now?" Nat asks.

"He yelled that and ran," Clint returns, looking around at the kitchen as if trying to identify some other threat in there.

With a rub at her temple, Nat murmurs something, in Russian again, and Clint wholeheartedly agrees, even though he can't make out the actual words. People are idiots sometimes. But she's wrong, Clint hasn't been pining, he's been admiring Bucky ever since he came in with Steve and Sam. Bucky is strong, so much stronger than Clint, and his heart twists again in his chest with hurt at the thought of what Bucky's been through.

"Go talk to him," Nat says. It's way too gentle. Clint eyes her warily and she frowns. "Was I wrong?"

Was she, though? Bucky likes Clint, and something tightens around his ribs at the thought. Huh. Maybe he likes Bucky beyond admiration, after all.

He shakes his head and the smile she turns at him is too knowing.

"Go talk to him," she repeats.

"Yeah," Clint rasps, hands her the sandwich.

~

He finds Bucky on the roof, sitting at the end of the sun deck, legs dangling off the edge. Clint makes sure to generate enough noise as he approaches, and he sees Bucky curl in on himself a little. Well, Clint's done way more embarrassing things in his life. He stops behind Bucky, knees almost brushing his shoulders.

"I like you, too," Clint says.

It's so right, so fitting, that a full body shiver runs through him, doubled by the swarm of butterflies that have suddenly taken over his belly. Clint draws air through his nose, savoring the sensations. Whoa, talk about a rush. He hasn't felt this in a long time.

~

The moment he recognizes Clint's footsteps, Bucky has to force himself not to run off again. He breathes in, holds, lets go slowly. Whatever Clint will say, he's not ready to hear, but he will anyway.

"I like you, too," Clint says.

Bucky stills.

He hasn't heard right. Except that he has, and he turns to Clint to confirm this. The smile he sees is the best thing that's ever happened so far this century and Bucky trembles with it. He pats the concrete next to him, words stuck in his throat, but he can't take his eyes off of Clint's face, off of that curl of his lips, as Clint sits next to him.

It's a while before Bucky manages to open his mouth, but Clint's been waiting patiently, and Bucky's grateful. They're pressed tightly together, thigh against thigh and arm against arm. Clint's heat seeps through Bucky's chilled skin with each subtle shift in Clint's stance as he leans into Bucky more and more.

"Hey, doll," he manages, voice low and gravelly.

"Hey," Clint breathes, and the air tickles Bucky's lips.

Clint does it, or Bucky does it, or they both do it, but that small distance between their mouths dissolves into a tingling that runs through Bucky, coiling in his chest with warmth.

Too soon they break apart, but Clint's palm comes up to caresses the side of Bucky's face, his thumb tracing the shape of his cheek.

"What were you gonna say, back in the kitchen?" Clint asks, with a tilt of his head toward the building.

A huff of laughter leaves Bucky unabated.

"Hey, doll," he repeats, taking Clint's other hand to intertwine their fingers, "wanna go dancing?"

The way Clint's eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles makes the back of Bucky's neck heat up again. Only... this time it's soothing.

Delightful.

~End~

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone!  
> Thank you for reading.  
> I've been having a hard time at work for the past couple of weeks so I haven't managed to finish Chapter 6 of Nameless yet. But we'll get there, only that I'm slow. Thank you for your patience :) In the meantime, have some fluffy Winterhawk. *leaves cookies*


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